


Oh Lord, Heaven Knows (We Belong Way Down Below)

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Series: Killers for Hire (SkyeWard AU) [10]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Honeymoon, Killers for Hire, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-26 16:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2659223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye and Grant go on their honeymoon, bang a lot, bond over food, and plan a trip to Graceland.  Oh, and they're going to Boston to kill Christian, so it's a real party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god this fic got away from me. Enjoy part one!

She likes to cuddle up next to him between their valiant efforts to fuck on every surface in the hotel room.She’ll run his hands all over his body, watch him shudder and grin at her and God, he’s so gross.This is exactly the kind of lovey-dovey intimacy bullshit that she had been trying to avoid.

That being said.

She sure as hell isn’t giving him back.

She almost likes the idea that he’s hers for keeps, now.She almost likes it a lot.

“Hey baby,” she says, and the nickname feels heavier on her tongue, somehow.She traces her index finger up along his stomach, around his navel.“Tell me about your favorite kill.”

He smiles, cocky and fond all at once.“You really want to hear it again?”

She nods.“I do.”

“Well,” he says.“If you really want.”He pulls his arm out from under her, splays his hands out in front of them, to set the scene.She snickers and rests her head against his shoulder.

“You’re so dramatic,” she teases, poking at a ticklish spot in his side.He lets out an almost-laugh.Grant Ward, mercenary: slightly ticklish.

“You asked!” he replies.“Let me tell the story.”

She kisses his bicep and his grin widens, brightens.

“I’m twenty-one years old,” he says.“And I fucking love my job.”He looks over to her, like he’s awaiting her reaction.

“Go on,” she tease.

“I’ve been in the killing business for three years, now,” Grant says.“I’m the best shot around, hot as hell, but I feel...unfulfilled.”

“Okay that part’s new,” Skye says.“And also probably a lie.”

“It’s true,” Grant says.“I was a pretty boy with big guns and not a lot of substance.”

“What do you mean ‘was?’” Skye asks.

He tickles her side until she dissolves into a fit of giggles.“Can I continue?” he asks.

She flicks her tongue out at him.“By all means, my pretty boy.”

He makes a face back (a very attractive face).“Of course, pretty girl.”

“I meant it as a compliment,” Skye says.

“So did I,” Grant tells her, and kisses her forehead for good measure.

“Ew,” Skye says.

Grant snickers at her, and continues.“So, I guess my boss, you remember my boss?”

“I remember him,” Skye says.“Your boss/mentor/whatever.He got you out of prison, right?”

“Yeah,” Grant says, stroking her hair.“He wanted to give me direction.Real direction.So on my 21st birthday-”

“He gave you his favorite gun,” Skye finishes, giving Grant a knowing grin.

“Why did you ask if you’re going to keep interrupting me?” Grant teases.

“Oh, I thought we were doing like, a karaoke thing?” Skye asks.“But go on.This is my favorite part.”

He sighs, like he’s just so done with her.But he isn’t.“So, my family’s a bunch of political dicks, right?” Grant says.“Dad’s a senator.Or he was.I was supposed to be one too, you know.But I got a little off-track.”

“No,” Skye says.“You don’t say.”

“I will gag you,” he says.

“Do it,” she says.“I’m waiting.”

He shakes his head.“Later,” he says, running his thumb over her lips.“I’m almost done.”

She strokes the lines of his hips in return.Maybe to distract him, maybe to keep him going.Maybe because she just likes playing with him.And his hipbones are so well defined that they need to be touched.And maybe licked a little.Soon.

“So your father-” Skye says for him, to keep him going.She works her hand a little lower.“Tell me the story, baby.”

“My father was a senator,” Grant repeats, his breath starting to catch.“And I hated him.”

“For good reason,” Skye says.Her fingers are against the base of him, now, teasing, waiting.“He was a monster.”

“Oh,” Grant says, either to her hands or her comment.“No question about that.He deserved to die.And-” His eyes flutter.“Skye, you can’t-”

She strokes upwards.“Keep going.”

He grits his teeth.A big, strong mercenary, made boneless with just the touch of her hand.It was almost cute.“He was giving a stump speech on the night of my birthday,” Grant manages, twisting his hips.“Oh God.And he- I- I had a vantage point and a gun and-”

She brushes her thumb over the head.“You pulled the trigger and killed him.”

“On national TV,” Grant says.“Oh, fuck.It was the proudest-”

She’s put her mouth over him without warning, and his words die against a series of groans.

This might be a strange story to have sex to.She shrugs internally.They’ve done weirder.

He leaves her mouth with a wet popping sound, and she grins.“I have a present planned for you,” she says.

“Is it more blowjob?” he asks, like it’s Christmas morning.

“Better,” she says.

“I’m going to fuck your tits?” he asks.

“It’s not sex-related,” she says.

He blinks.“But you’re-” 

She pulls herself up against him, straddles his stomach.Her lips ghost over her ear.“We’re going to top your favorite kill.”She grinds down, and he almost whimpers.“We’re gonna make you even prouder, baby.”

“How?” he manages. 

She bites the shell of his ear.“We’re going to kill Senator Christian Ward,” Skye says.

Which is when she slides onto him, without warning.He shuts his eyes and moans as she rocks her hips.“We’re going to kill your older brother, Grant.We’re gonna kill everyone that hurt you.”

He kisses her with his hands in her hair, bucking against her.His teeth drag along her lower lip and pull.

Honeymoons are awesome.They really should’ve done this sooner.

 

\--

 

They hotwire a Mercedes in the early morning, when the sun’s just starting to peek above the palm trees.

“Roadtrip?” Skye asks, as Grant brings the engine to life.

“It’ll be a good bonding experience,” Grant says.

“Whatever you say,” Skye says.She tosses their bags into the trunk and hops into the passenger seat.“We’ll probably have to hop cars in a while, though,” she points out.

“That’s half the fun of it,” Grant says.

“Real-life Grant Theft Auto?” Skye says.

“Better,” Grant tells her.“Because we’re living it.”

“You fucking nerd,” Skye says.She opens the glovebox to find a very expensive pair of sunglasses.“Ooh,” she exclaims, pulling them out.“Grant, real tortoiseshell.”

He won’t stop grinning, easy and sure and smug.“They’re yours,” he says.

“Duh,” Skye says.“I found them first.”

“I wouldn’t want them,” Grant tells her.“I’m not really into sunglasses.”

“You had those horrible aviators, though,” Skye reminds him, settling into her seat.

“You threw those off the side of a building,” Grant says.“I think they hit and killed someone.”

He’s teasing.He thinks he’s so clever.

Skye shrugs.“I didn’t like them,” she says.“And you can’t prove that.”

He fondly shakes his head, stares down at the little silver symbol on the steering wheel.“I guess not,” he says.His voice is starting to trail off.Which means he’s thinking.Rarely a good sign, with him.

“Baby?” she asks, reaching for his arm.“You good?”She doesn’t really know how to properly convey ‘concern,’ yet, but she thinks she might be learning.She shakes his bicep.“Baaaaabe.”

“Are we doing this publicly or privately?” Grant asks.

Skye tilts her head.“Like, are we going to do it in public or-”

“Killing Christian,” Grant says.“Do we want to do it on TV or do it at home?”He looks over to her.“Wait, you’d do it in public-public?”

“I didn’t understand the question,” Skye says.“And which would you prefer?”

“Well I mean I could do you on the hood of this car right here and now-”

She whaps him.“I meant about your brother, Grant!Jesus Christ.”

“Oh,” he says.“Oh.”The sex talk has taken the tension out of his face, as it tends to.“Well,” he says.“I’d like to do it in our father’s study.”

“That’s fucking twisted,” Skye says.“Let’s do it.”

“You complete me,” Grant teases, which gets him another light smack.

“Stop being gross,” Skye says. 

“You make me gross,” he says back.

“Ewww,” Skye replies.“How long until we get to Massachusetts, anyway?”

“From here?” Grant asks.“Few days.”

“Motel-hopping and car-stealing all the while?” Skye asks.

He smiles at her.“Anything for my wife.”

Skye wrinkles her nose as Grant puts the car in gear.He grabs her hand.“Admit it,” he says.

“Admit what?” she asks.

“You love me,” he replies.

She feels the words bubbling inside her like heartburn.“I-” she says.“I, um-” Skye looks at their hands and their fingers and holy shit, can they just go on their little spree without Grant having feelings?

Alternately, could her feelings please kick in, now?She’s starting to feel defective.

He leans in and kisses her forehead.“Don’t hurt yourself,” he tells her.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

He shrugs, still grinning, still handsome and full of life.“Don’t worry about it,” he says.

She tries not to as they peel out of the motel lot.

 

\--

 

They’re on the road for 30 whole minutes before they remember they need coffee to function as people.They pull over for the first diner they find by the highway. 

Well.They park and abandon the car in some brush by the highway, and then walk to the diner from there.Semantics.

“You literally fucked all the calories out of me,” Skye whines.“I have no energy left.I’m running on fumes.”

“I don’t hear any downsides, here,” Grant tells her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

She kicks some stray gravel at him.“Shut up,” she says.“Tell me you’ve got cash.”

“Don’t you trust me?” he asks, leading her up the short flight of stairs.

“We could dash, I guess,” Skye says.

Grant shakes his head. “We’re killers, not assholes,” Grant says.

“I mean, you are an asshole,” Skye says.The door bell jingles above them.“But not in that way.”

“I have a heart of gold,” Grant says.

“You have a heart of marshmallow peeps, you fucking idiot,” Skye retorts.

The host gives them a strange look as he seats them.To say the least.

“What do you want?” he asks, peering at her over his menu.“Hey, remember yesterday when we called room service and-”

“I remember what I ate off of you,” Skye says.“Thank you.”

He snickers.“Not so loud,” he says, tilting his head.Skye follows his signal to see an elderly couple staring at her like she might be the devil incarnate.

They’re not wrong.

“I’m so hungry,” Skye says.“I want like, 30 eggs and a pile of bacon and like 600 pancakes and a whole pot of coffee.”

“Jesus Christ,” Grant asks.“You’re not pregnant, are you?”

Her eyes widen.“Don’t even fucking joke about that,” she says.

Still smirking.Still a smug son-of-a-bitch.“Sorry,” he says.“So, what did you want?30 eggs?”

“I’m not pregnant,” she tells him, matter-of-factly.“Grant. We couldn’t handle a baby.”

He gives her a steady gaze.“We could handle anything,” he tells her.“But I agree.”

Skye quirks a smile.“I need coffee,” she says.“I needed coffee like, three years ago.”

“Pushy,” Grant says.He signals a waiter for coffee.

“Actually,” Skye says, studying the menu.“I want pancakes.Preferably banana.If they have them.”

“Banana pancakes for the lady,” Grant says, as the waiter pours.

“I can order for myself,” Skye says.“And he doesn’t even have his notepad out! Stop putting pressure on him!”

Grant raises his hands.“I’m not putting pressure on him!” he protests.“You said you were hungry!”

“I’d like banana pancakes, please,” Skye says sweetly to the waiter.

“He still doesn’t have his notepad out,” Grant says.

“Shut the fuck up,” Skye says.

“It’s fine,” the waiter finally says.“One stack of banana pancakes.And-”

“Cup of raw eggs,” Grant says.“Like, four.And some uncooked spinach, if you have it.”

The waiter stares at him.

“He’ll have a bacon, egg, and cheese on a roll, please,” Skye says.“Excuse him.”

“I don’t want bacon, egg, and cheese,” Grant says.“I want-”

“They can’t legally serve you raw eggs, you fucking moron,” Skye says.“You’ll get sick.”

He grits his teeth.“Well, excuse me darling for wanting to-”

“Oh you did not just call me darling, sweetheart-”

“I’ll call my wife whatever I damn well please, angel-”

“Honeybunch, I will put a bullet right between your fucking eyes-”

He starts to laugh.It breaks across his face like cold water.“Honeybunch?”

She cocks her head.“Angel?”

Grant looks at the waiter like he’s so proud.“We just got married,” Grant says.“Can you tell?”

“Um,” the waiter says.

“Can I have more coffee?” Skye says.“I finished my cup.”

“We have to drive for three days and you’re going to piss in my car,” Grant tells her.

“It’s not your car,” Skye says.“And you know it’s not your car, and also, my bladder is fucking iron-clad.”

“That is a lie,” Grant says.“You know that’s a lie.”

“I actually have to pee right now,” Skye says.She gets up from her seat, nods at the waiter.“Excuse me.”

“Oh my God,” Grant groans.“My fucking wife, everyone.”

He says it so affectionately it makes her wanna puke.

 

\--

 

“You tipped them, right?” Skye asks, as the diner door shuts behind them.

Grant takes her hand.“For having to put up with you?” he asks.“I tipped well.Don’t worry about it.”

She considers this, pursing her lips as she puts her sunglasses on.

“Those do look great on you,” he remarks.“Glad you stole ‘em.”

Skye cocks a smirk at him.“So are we going back to our car, or-”

Grant shakes his head.“It’s probably been reported as stolen by now,” he says.He leads her to the parking lot, shields his eyes from the sun with his forearm.“Take your pick.”

She’s frowning.“From here?”

“Yeah,” Grant says.“Something wrong?”

“I mean,” Skye says.“The only people in that diner were waiters and old people.”She scuffs her shoe against the gravel, keeps her gaze low.  

The grin he gives her is corny as fuck, though.“Mrs. Ward,” he says.“Are you having a moment of actual morality?”

She snaps her head towards him, and he knows she’s glaring behind those tortoiseshell frames.“First,” she says, her index finger held proudly in front of her face.“Don’t ever call me that.”

“You’re the one who came back,” he teases.“So don’t you want to be Mrs. War-”

“Second,” she snaps, adding a second finger.“I am not experiencing morals.I’m just not in the mood to be an asshole.We kill high-profile people.We don’t rob the elderly and people who make less than minimum wage.”

“You killed a ninety-year-old!” Grant says.Not to argue, just to make a point.

“He was a duke and he deserved it!” Skye says, with a stomp of her foot.“I am not stealing one of these cars.”

He pulls her in and kisses her forehead.Without even warning her.He doesn’t get to be mushy without warning her.

“Stoooop,” she whines.

“We’ll find an impound lot,” he says.“Take something from there.Think you can look one up?”

She’s already got her phone out.“Not a problem,” she says.“I can also hack their systems and make it look like we’re the rightful owners of the car, if you want,” she says.“It’ll keep us from having to change so often.”

“We should still change to be safe though,” he says.

“Duh,” Skye retorts, thumbs racing across her phone screen.“Two miles west,” she says.“Feel like walking?”

He kisses her again, on the lips this time.

“You taste like pancakes,” he tells her.

She rolls her eyes.

 

\--

 

“No,” Grant says, and that’s how Skye knows it’s the perfect car.

She runs her hand along the cherry red hood.“It’s been here the longest,” Skye says.“I checked the list.”

“Yeah, because it’s an old piece of crap,” Grant says.

“It’s vintage,” Skye corrects.“Besides, isn’t it part of your hyper-macho image to like old cars?”

Grant crosses his arms.“It’s older than the both of us.”

“It’s our best bet,” Skye says.“It’s been here for like, six years!”

“So the owner is probably dead, then,” Grant says.

“Probably!” Skye says.

“So you didn’t want to steal from the elderly, but you’re fine stealing a dead guy’s car.”

“He’s not going to use it now, Grant,” Skye says.“Come on.I want it.I want this car.”

“It is going to break down on the side of I-95 and when it does, I don’t want to hear shit from you,” Grant tells her, with an accusatory jab of his finger.

“It won’t break down if you actually treat it decently,” Skye says.She rubs the hood.“Right, baby?”

“Do not talk to the car,” Grant says.“This is a temporary ride.It’ll last us to South Carolina, at most.”

“I’m going to go claim it,” Skye says, giving the hood one last reassuring pat.“You two try to get along, okay?”

“It’s not a pet!” Grant says, as she walks aways.He gestures to the car.“Skye! It’s a piece of shit!Get back here!”

 

Twenty minutes later, Skye lazily swings her legs over the dashboard.“Turn on the radio,” she says.Her smile is tinged with her victory.

Grant slouches over the steering wheel.“There was a perfectly good Civic three spaces over.”

“It had just been impounded,” Skye says.“Someone was going to come for it.”

“What about the green Jeep over-”

“Grant,” Skye says.“I wanted this one.”

He adjusts his grip on the steering wheel.“Why?”

She shrugs.“Because it’s cool and nobody wants it but me,” Skye says.

“If that is supposed to be a thinly-veiled remark about me,” Grant says.“I’ll have you know that I am at least 20 years younger than this car, and plenty of people want me.”

She lets out a tch-ing sound, turns on the radio.

“Still set to the oldies,” Grant says.“That’s kind of sad.”

Skye shrugs, leaning back in the seat and letting Elvis sing to her.

“Hey, you know what would be fun?” Skye says, tilting her chin towards the radio.“Like, really fun?”

“Stealing a better car?” Grant says.

“No, stupid,” Skye retorts.“We should go to Graceland!”

Grant doesn’t respond, so Skye tugs on his bicep.“Graceland,” she repeats.

“I heard you,” Grant says.“And are you going to do this for every artist on the radio?”

“No,” Skye says.“But it’s my honeymoon, and I want to go to Graceland.”

“I thought we were killing Christian?” Grant asks.

“We can do both!” Skye says.“I mean, how far could Tennessee be?”

“About 19 hours in the wrong direction,” Grant says.She’s gaping, which makes him lift an eyebrow.“What?You don’t know US Geography?”

“Drop out,” she reminds him, gesturing to herself like it’s obvious.

“So am I,” he says, mocking her tone.“But it’s kind of part of our job?”

“No it isn’t,” Skye says.

“I didn’t even know you liked Elvis,” Grant says.

Skye mades an indignant noise and whacks him on the arm.“Don’t insult me!”

“What?!” Grant asks.“We’ve never discussed musical interests!”

“I love Elvis,” Skye tells him.“And I want to go to Graceland.”

“We should cross of Christian first,” Grant says.“Stumping starts next week, so he’ll be all over the US.And since you can’t read a map-”

“Now you’re just being an asshole,” Skye says.“But I see your point.”

“Thank you,” Grant says.He looks over to her, pouting in the oversized leather seat.“What?”

“I want to go to Graceland now,” she says.

“It was your idea to kill Christian,” he tells her.

“I knooow,” she says.“I wish your brother wasn’t such a piece of shit.Then we wouldn’t have to kill him and we could go to Graceland right now.”

He takes her hand, kisses her knuckles.She wrinkles her nose.“Sorry, Skye,” he says.“That’s life.”

She idly rubs at the side of his face for a moment.“Take me to Massachusetts,” she says.

“I can do an Elvis impersonation while you wait,” Grant offers.

“I think we were married by an Elvis impersonator, actually,” Skye says.

Grant has to laugh at that.“Probably,” he says.

 

\--

 

“We should spend the night in Savannah,” Skye says, scrolling through her phone.

“We passed Savannah fifteen minutes ago,” Grant tells her.

Skye kicks him.

“I’m driving!” he yells, whacking away her foot.

“It’s the most haunted city in the US!” Skye says.“The internet said so!”

“Well,” Grant huffs.“If the internet said it.”

“Come on,” Skye says.“Turn around.We’ll drink the day away and pass out and we’ll drive 10 hours tomorrow.”

“You mean I’ll drive 10 hours,” Grant says.

She gives him wide, hopeful eyes.And he knows that it’s an act, that she’s about as innocent as he is, probably less, but her eyes are so brown and so deep.

“Fuck,” he says, turning the wheel.“If I get possessed, I’m blaming you.”

“It would be a welcome fucking relief,” Skye says.

“Oh, you can just fuck a ghost, then,” he says.

“Ew,” Skye says.“That’s weird.”

“You’re the one that wants to stay in the fucking voodoo motel!” Grant says.

“It’s not a voodoo motel,” Skye says.“It’s just a little haunted.Besides,” she continues, tilting her head.“Do you actually believe in ghosts?”

“It’s more like I avidly hope they’re not real,” Grant says.“Since I think I’ve made quite a few of them.”

Skye snickers at that.“You know who’s gonna be a ghost by the end of the week?” she asks.

“My fucking piece-of-shit brother?” Grant responds.

“Hell fucking yeah,” Skye says.

It’s not the most appropriate sentiment to high-five to.They still do.

 

The motel has pink siding the color of vomit and a painted wood sign that promises vacancy.

“That’s about right,” Skye says, as Grant pulls into a free space.“This is us.”

“It’s about one cracked window away from being home,” Grant says.

“Aw,” Skye says.“How romantic.”

Grant gives a nonchalant little shrug, like he’s so bashful about the whole thing.Skye slides her sunglasses on, strolls up to the front door like every bit the tourist she’s pretending to be.

“Slow down, sweetheart,” Grant calls after her.“I have to carry the bags, after all.”

They have one bag.He left it in the trunk.

“Sorry, darling,” Skye says, waiting for him by the front door.She checks her nails.Still short and ragged.Nothing that would ever get in the way of pulling the trigger.

He grabs her ass as they slip through the doorway, which is possessive and unromantic and so entirely him. 

“Ass,” she mutters, shoving him with his shoulder.

“You can take my hand off any time,” he tells her.

She wiggles against his hand.“I would but you’re sort of fingering me through my shorts so-”

He does this thing with his middle finger that makes her slam her hand on the reception desk.

“Good afternoon,” he tells the receptionist, who’s staring at Skye like she’s very concerned.

She probably should be.But it’s impolite to stare. 

“We heard this place was haunted,” Skye says, putting that faux-giddiness on again. “So we drove all the way here to sleep with some ghosts.”

“Phrasing,” Grant says.He gets a swift elbow in the ribs.

“Oh, we’re the most haunted inn in Savannah,” the receptionist says.“It’s slow this time of year, though.Plenty of vacancies, plenty of ghosts.”

“Any really violent ones?” Skye asks.  

“Jesus Christ,” Grant murmurs.

“All of our spirits love guests,” the receptionist says.“Sorry to disappoint you, Miss.”

“Mrs,” Grant says, with a proud little grin.“Mrs.Poots.I’m Zach Poots and this is my newly-wed wife, Mrs. Mary-Sue.”

“I hate you,” Skye says.

The receptionist blinks.

“He’s rich,” Skye offers.

“We’ll take something on the top floor,” Grant says.“If you have.”

The receptionist seems to take her time swiping at the keys, which just gives Grant more time to adjust his hand.Skye almost moans, but manages to make it look like a cough.

“Okay then,” the receptionist says, handing them an antique-looking key ring.“Room 303.Nice big bed.”

“When do the ghosts start?” Skye asks.

The receptionist keeps looking at Skye like she thinks Skye’s a bit dim.It’s really starting to piss Skye off.“They never really stop, hon,” she says.

Skye snatches the key.“I’ll keep that in mind,” Skye says.

“No need to be terse, sweetie,” Grant says.

“Eat my entire ass,” Skye tells him, headed for the stairs.“I know you left the luggage in the car.”

 

They lay side by side in their king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling.

“The lights aren’t even flickering,” Skye says.

“Nope,” Grant replies.

“I don’t hear any rattling chains or wailing or footsteps,” Skye says.

“Nope,” Grant says.

“You ever going to take your hand out of my pants?” Skye asks.

“Pass,” Grant says, grinning up at the ceiling.So clever, her Grant.He lazily rubs his fingers against her, just enough for it to feel warm and familiar.  

She makes a pleased noise in the back of her throat.“Can I finger you, later?” Skye asks.“Let the ghosts know you moan louder than they do?”

“Can we use that as an excuse?” Grant asks.“If people say we’re being too loud, we’ll just say ‘oh no, it’s ghosts.’”

“We’re gonna scare off the actual ghosts,” Skye says, adjusting her hips.

“Mm, that’s a shame,” Grant says, rolling onto his side.He wraps his free arm around her.“Come here,” he asks, closing the space between them.There’s just an inch between their lips, and he still hasn’t taken his goddamn hand out of her shorts.

She flicks her tongue out against his lips, and laughs when he makes a face.“Hi,” she whispers, like a teenager in love.Gross. Gross, gross, gross.Is what she is.

His lips brush against hers, teasing, making her chase after his kiss as he pulls his head back.“Eager, eager,” he teases.“Want me to kiss lower?”

She answers him with another kiss, sucking his bottom lip against her teeth.She bites, feels him shudder.“Yeah,” she whispers.“I’d like that.”

 

He lets out a low laugh, finally pulling his hand out of her shorts.She protests with a little whine, but he just ignores her.He tugs at her waistband, pulls her clothes off.

“You know,” Grant says, staring between her legs.“You have a really nice-”

“Nope,” Skye says.“Whatever you’re about to say.I don’t want to hear you write sonnets about my vagina.”

He smirks at her.“I don’t know how to write sonnets,” he says.

“And thank God for that,” Skye says.“Now,” she gestures.“About that kiss?”

He has to play with her.He has to, lest she start taking him seriously.He kisses below her navel, and looks up.“I kissed lower,” he says.

She pouts.“Lower,” she says.

He kisses the inside of her thigh.

She tries to kick him, and he easily pins her leg, grinning like every bit the asshole he is.“What?” he asks innocently.“I’m just doing what you asked.”

“Eat me out, Grant,” she says.

“You know,” he says, resting his head on her leg.He strokes along her slit with his index finger, gentle enough to give her a chill.“You’re lucky I like eating pussy so much.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says.“And I’m unlucky you like to talk more.”

His eyes flash with amusement.“Debatable,” he says.He surges forward.

She moans as his tongue comes to meet her where she needs it, where he’s been teasing her all damn day.“Oh, Grant,” she sighs.

Skye spreads her legs wider.Grant smiles at her, presses his hands into her thighs.

“Oh, Grant,” Skye repeats.She grabs his hair as harshly as she can manage, grinds against his face.He takes it as a challenge. He adds his thumb, twisting it inside her with enough slowness to make her stomach shake.“Oh, God,” she says.“Oh, yes, please yes-”

He laughs at the sound of her begging moans.The vibrations drive her up a fucking wall.

 

She gets him back later, of course, as she works three fingers in and out of him.

“Hi, hubby,” she teases.“You look so good like this.”

Grant whines in pleasure, probably because she called him her husband.Also probably because she brushes his prostate with her fingers every time she thrusts into him.

Well, not really brushes.Brushes implies she’s being gentle about it.And that’s not what Grant likes.

“Skye,” Grant moans, rutting against the bed.Not so big and bad now, is he?This is her favorite.One of her favorites. 

It’s so easy to have him at her mercy.Surprisingly easy, actually.He could easily murder someone with like, a sneaker and a magazine.But here he is, leaking pre-come onto the sheets and whining like every bit the brat she knows him to be.

“Baby,” she whispers. “Do you want to come now?”

He makes an incoherent stream of words.

“I asked you a question, baby,” she says.“Do you remember the first time I did this to you?How bad you wanted it all that time?”

He tries to nod.

“You’re a lucky boy,” Skye says.“To have someone that knows just where to touch you.”

“I love you,” he murmurs.She ignores the brief pang of...something that she feels at that.

“I,” she says.“I-” She’s said it before.Once.She’s said it before!“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby,” she says.

He makes the most content little noise imaginable, and it’s disgustingly charming.“Mm,” he says.“My Skye.”

She’s smiling at him.

She has yet to hear any ghosts.

She can’t put off saying ‘I love you’ forever.

She has surprisingly deep thoughts while fucking Grant in the ass.

 

\--

 

“Mind if we sit here?” Grant asks, Skye at his side.There aren’t many free spaces left in the dining room this morning, and Skye and Grant are feeling something like friendly.

An almost-excessive amount of foreplay will do that to a person.

The group at the table nods.Not like Skye and Grant would’ve given them another option, but still. They settle down with their plates full of all the southern-style continental breakfast they can manage, grinning at each other like they’re in on some big secret.

“Did you hear all that noise last night?” someone asks, as Skye bites into her cornbread.  

Skye does not, in any way, shape, or form, choke on her breakfast.She might widen her eyes a little, but only in amusement.Grant elbows her in the ribs.

“I think we heard something, yeah,” Grant says.“Crazy stuff.”

“It sounded like a couple,” an older woman adds.“A very active one, if you ask me.”

There are snickers around the table.Skye and Grant remember to smile politely.Maybe a little smugly.Just a little.

“My ceiling creaked all night,” someone else adds.

“Well whoever they were,” Skye says.“They definitely saw God last night.”

Grant has to bite down on his knuckles to keep from laughing.Skye keeps brushing her foot against his shin to egg him on.

 

“So where are you two kids from?” the older woman asks, staring at Skye and Grant with the kind of elderly affection that they are entirely unused to.

“Oh,” Skye says.“Well, I’m an army brat,” she lies, like she always does.“I moved around a lot.”

“I’m from Massachusetts,” Grant says, because he prefers half-truths.

“We’re on our way to see his brother,” Skye says, smiling.“We haven’t seen his family in a while.So we figured why not pay a visit?”

“I’ve been meaning to catch up with my brother anyway,” Grant adds, smiling fondly.“We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“And then we’re going to Graceland,” Skye says.

Grant groans.“You’re still on that?” he asks.

“I’m still on that, _Zach,_ ” she says, taking a forkful of grits.She sucks them off her fork as he stares at her, either like he hates her or he loves her or she drives him fucking crazy.

“Well, _Mary,”_ he retorts.“I guess I’m just surprised that with everything else on our plates, you’re still on that.”

“I can multitask,” Skye says.“Unlike you.That’s why I get paid more.”

The table is starting to stare.

“You don’t get paid more, Mary,” Grant says.“If we tallied up what I’ve made in the past two years-”

“You just don’t have as many high-profile clients,” Skye shrugs.

“I don’t need to go big to feel good about myself, sweetheart,” Grant says.“I do good work.”

“What do you two do?” the old woman asks.

Skye and Grant look at each other, then back at the table.“We’re freelancers,” she says.

“Artists,” Grant adds.

“I do more digital work,” Skye says.“He’s the traditional sort.”

“But we love each other anyway,” he says, taking her hand.

There’s a round of appropriate ‘aw’-ing.

Skye squeezes Grant’s hand.“We should get going, honey,” she says.“Lots of driving to do today.”

“You mean lots of driving for me to do,” Grant says, taking her plate.

Skye stands when he does, putting her hand in his back pocket.“Maybe,” she says.“If you’d let me drive every once in a while-”

“Not a chance,” Grant says.“Nice meeting everyone,” he says, and gets a set of polite goodbyes in return.  

Skye smiles warmly.“Have fun on your vacations,” she says.“Look out for ghosts.”Or your friendly neighborhood snipers.

 

They make it about halfway out of the dining room before bursting into laughter.

“That was probably your fault,” he says.“Since you kept saying ‘oh Grant.’”

“Oh you were way louder,” Skye says.“You probably kept the whole fucking place up.”

“Well isn’t that what you wanted?” Grant asks, closing in on her space.She looks up at him as he strokes her cheek.“Didn’t you like me like that?”

“Shut up,” she says.

“I take it almost as well as you do, sweetheart,” he says.

“Remember when my nickname was ‘kid?’” Skye asks him, temporarily interrupting his invasion of her senses.

“Seemed like a weird thing to call my wife,” he says.

“But not a weird thing to call the girl you were fucking?” she teases.

He smirks at her like he always does, charmed and enthralled and in love with her.He holds her in place but she doesn’t even mind.“Shut up, kid,” he says.He kisses her like it’s the first time, and she’s almost as breathless.When he pulls back, her lips ache.“We’ve got to hit the road,” he says.

She takes his hand as they leave.

 

\--

 

“Okay,” Grant says, settling into the drivers seat.“Without traffic, it’s 10 hours to Philadelphia.”

Skye runs her hand along the dashboard.“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Grant says.“Can you make it?”He turns the key in the ignition before she can respond.It’s not like she could say no to him.They’re dedicated to this.To each other.She wouldn’t say no to him.Never again.

“How far will we be from Boston?” Skye says.

“Five hours,” Grant says. 

“So we drive in early, ditch the car, and situate ourselves in at the old Ward estate?” she asks.The hotels and buildings begin to fade behind them, turning into the expanse of road.

“I’ll give you a grand tour,” Grant jokes.“I’m sure they’ll have covered the scorch marks by now, but I’ll show you where I started that fire.”

“The fire that started it all,” Skye says.

Grant almost laughs. Almost.But he’s getting kind of sad, the way he always does when his family stuff comes up.

Skye takes his hand.“We’re ending this,” she says to him.“That’s what this is about.”

“You can’t just end something like this,” Grant says.“You can’t just end my family.”

Skye tosses her hair over her shoulder, squeezes his hand.“Of course we can.”

A half smile.Still sad.

Skye’s never been very good at this.“Philadelphia or bust?” she offers.

He nods.“We’ll have to case the place for the day,” Grant says.“Disable cameras, take out guards and hide the bodies if need be.And then we wait.”

Skye drums her fingers.“Does he have kids?”

He swallows. “Yeah.”

Skye doesn’t really have a response to that.She pulls her gun out from under her waistband.Holding it makes her feel better.Stronger.“You think they’ll come after us one day?”

“Maybe,” Grant says.

“One thing at a time?” Skye asks.

Grant’s fingers brush over her knuckles.“Yeah,” he says.There’s a hoarseness in his tone that unnerves her.She doesn’t let go of his hand.

“At least we don’t have to keep switching cars,” she says.

He blinks at the road.“Yeah,” he repeats.

“Grant,” she says.“Say the word and we cancel this trip.”

“No,” he says.“I want to do this.I want it to be over so badly, Skye.That’s why I’m-” He shakes his head.Kisses her hand.“Please stay with me.”

“We’re in a moving car,” Skye says.The sudden change in tone has made her about 30 kinds of uncomfortable.She’s trying to amend it.Probably making it worse.“I can’t leave.”

Another almost laugh. “You could tuck and roll,” he says.

Skye blanches.“I’ve gotten enough road rash in my lifetime, thank you.”

His smile is getting more genuine.“Don’t say that,” he says.“You’re young.There’s still plenty of cars to jump out of.”

“Oh good,” she says.“I was worried.”

“And I’ll always come pick you up,” he says.“Patch your wounds, clean you up.”

“Stop.You’ll make me swoon.”She’s teasing.With her tone, with her infectious grin.

“I can’t help being swoon-worthy,” Grant says.

Skye makes a face.“You do know that people don’t actually swoon in real life, right?” she says.

“Oh come on,” he says.“Look at me.”

“Here we go,” Skye says.She doesn’t stop him, as she sometimes does.Getting Ward to talk about his appearance is always good for distracting him.And right now, that’s what he needs.

“I’m completely swoon-worthy,” he says.“You’ve never swooned over me?Not even a little bit?”

She smacks her lips, pretends to consider it.“Nope.”

“Not even that time I rescued you outside Moscow?You totally swooned.”

“I fainted because I was poisoned,” she says.“Kind of different.”

“Yeah,” he says.“Okay.Fair.But what about that time you stood in front of my motorcycle?”

Skye snickers.“That was like, two years ago!”

“You swooned when I took off my helmet,” he says.“I knew it.I was like, ‘Look at this girl staring at me like I’m the goddamn sun.’”

“Okay, first of all: wow,” Skye says, giving a slight shake of her head.“Just.Wow.And second, it’s funny you should mention that, because I remember staring at you and being like: ‘Look at this asshole.I’m gonna punch him in the dick.’”

“Yeah, with your mouth,” Grant retorts.

Skye whacks him on the arm.“You are so awful!” she says.“Oh my God! You’re the worst!”

“You married me anyway,” he says.“You maaaarried meee!”He is singing to her.He is so stupid and awful that he is singing.

“I hate yoooou,” Skye sings back, because she has given up.

“You loooove meee,” he replies.

She blinks.She nods.“I do,” she says, and leans over to kiss his cheek.

“See!” he says.“Right there!You just swooned a little.”

“Nope,” Skye says again.“Not even a bit.”

“You did!” he accuses.“You swooned!”

She laughs.At him, mostly.And maybe a little at herself.

 

\--

 

“I have to pee,” Skye says, when they’re somewhere in Virginia.

“You just went!” Grant retorts.

“That was an hour ago!” she says.“And I had that Big Gulp in North Carolina!”Her lips still bear the slight blue tinge to prove it. 

“Which was a huge fucking mistake,” Grant says.

She briefly sticks out her blue tongue.“Well if you’d spilt it with me like I asked-”

“Those things are disgusting!” he says.“They’re all sugar!”

“No Grant, that’s why they’re the best things.”

“Well if you have to pee-” he says.He grabs his water bottle from the cup holder, and hands it to her.“Here.”

“I can’t pee in this,” Skye says.

“Sure you can,” Grant replies.“Just aim.”

She makes a face.“I feel like you’re between my legs enough to know that you and I are functioning with different parts.”

“Girls can aim their pee, too,” Grant says.

“Not as consistently as guys can!” Skye protests.  

“Okay, okay,” he says.“Fine.Next rest stop, I’ll pull over.But that’s in until Philly, Skye.”

“That is four hours.I will pee on you,” Skye says.

“Hey now,” Grant says.“We just got married.Don’t you want to wait before you bring that into the mix?”

Skye bops him with the water bottle.

“You have been whacking me a lot this trip,” Grant says.“Which I take to mean I’m being especially hilarious.”

“Shut up and keep driving,” Skye says.

 

As it turns out, the nearest rest stop is another 7-11.

“Hey,” Grant calls after Skye as she hops out of the car.“If you get another big gulp, I am making you keep the cup to pee in.”

“Wow, ew,” Skye says.

“We need to get to Philly, Skye,” he says.

“Well I want a cherry slurpee,” Skye says.

“We are stopped so that you can pee out the rest of the last one!” Grant says.

“So I’m almost out of blood sugar!” Skye says.

“I will buy you booze later,” he pleads.He’s not the pleading kind, and that makes her stop in her tracks.“Skye, come on.”

She stares at him, leaning on the roof of the car.At his frown, at his flickering brown eyes.She sighs.“I was just teasing.I’ll be quick.We’ll get to Philly tonight, Grant.”

He softens.“Why don’t I go buy snacks while you pee?”

She smiles.“See if they have Sno Balls!” she says.

He wrinkles his nose, and she knows he’s two seconds away from telling her that Sno Balls are gross (when really it’s his lifelong abhorrence of coconut that’s gross,) but he just nods.“Okay, sweetheart.I’ll check.”

Looks like he’s using sweetheart un-ironically now.She doesn’t correct him.

 

He hands her a pack of Ding Dongs when she gets back in the car.

“What the shit is this?” Skye asks.

He stares at her.“They’re Ding Dongs,” he says.“They didn’t have any Sno Balls.”

She pouts.“I don’t like Ding Dongs,” Skye says.

“Who doesn’t like Ding Dongs?!” Grant says.

“Who doesn’t have Sno Balls?!” Skye retorts.

“Just eat the freaking Ding Dongs, Skye,” he says.

She crosses her arms.“You’re a ding-dong.”

“People in the next county saw that one coming,” Grant says, taking the food from her and tearing open the plastic.He eats about half of the first cake in one bite.

“Oh,” he says, pulling something from the left side of the driver’s seat.“Got you something else.”

“Cherry Slurpee!” Skye exclaims, taking the small cup from his hands.

“I got you a small one,” Grant says.“But seriously.We need to get to Philadelphia.So we can’t stop for another two hours.”

Skye innocently slurps away.

“Skye,” he says.

“Fine, fine,” she says, her teeth now kind of purple.“I’ll hold it.”

Grant smiles at her.

“You have Ding Dong in your teeth,” she says.

He runs his tongue along his teeth, which is not sexy in any way, shape or form, and doesn’t make Skye squirm at all.“You’re crazy, by the way,” he says.“Ding Dongs are way better than Sno Balls.”

“Oh my God,” Skye says.“You’re so wrong.I cannot believe how wrong you are.”

 

\--

 

Skye wraps her legs around Grant’s waist as he angles deeper inside her.

“Oh my god,” she groans.“Oh my god.”

He kisses at her collarbone.Kissing turns to sucking.With teeth.Moving lower, between her breasts.Strong hands digging into her back, tracing her along spine.“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs into her breast, laughing, nipping.  

“I know,” she sighs.

He bites a little harder, laughs when she swats at him.“Oh, Skye,” he says, working her hips.“Are we doing spanking tonight?”

“I should nn-” Skye pauses, feels the sparks of pleasure roll through her.“I should spank you for making me wait.”

“To pee?” Grant asks.“We stopped every hour.On the hour.”

She shakes her head.“To fuck,” she says.

“I wanted dinner!” he protests.

She gathers herself, places her hands in the center of his chest.She unhooks her legs and shoves his back onto the squeaky motel mattress.“Well I wanted you,” she says.

He watches the dim light glimmer in her eyes and swallows harder than he means to.“Sorry.”

She stops.“Did you just apologize to me?”

Hands sliding along her hips.Grabbing her ass.“Well, I didn’t give you what you wanted,” he says.

“Oh my God,” Skye says.“Grant.”

He looks up at her.Smiles.“What?”

“Don’t be such a sap,” she says.

He thrusts up, temporarily distorting her focus.“I want to make you happy,” he says.

She brushes her hands along his arms.“You do,” she says.“You have.For a long time.”

She takes his wrists, pulls his hands away from her hips and pins them by his head.He grins.“Gonna tie me to the bed?” he asks.

She savors the look of surprise he gives her when she laces her fingers through his.It’s sweet.He squeezes her hands, and she leans forward to kiss him.“Tomorrow,” she says.“We’re going to fix it all tomorrow.”She feels his mouth still.“Grant?”

“What if I’m not fixed?” he asks.“What if I’m the same?”

“Oh, Grant,” she says.“I didn’t mean you.You’re-” She pauses.“I meant your family.”She rests her head in the crook of his neck.She kisses him.“I,” she says.“I, um.I love you, Grant.”

“I love you, too,” he whispers back.“I’d be lost without you.”

She shakes her head.“You wouldn’t be, Grant.”

“I needed you,” he says.“Always did.”

She doesn’t tell him to stop being sentimental.She doesn’t want him to stop.She doesn’t.“You’re not what’s broken,” she says.

He starts to move again.Shifts his hips.“Roll over,” he says.

They do.

And then he’s over her, holding her tightly, keeping his nose pressed into her hair and whispering to her.The sweetest things she’s ever heard.The most loved she’s ever felt.

It overwhelms her.But she won’t ask him to stop.She won’t push him away when the layers are gone.

He can be both.He can be her strong, cocky Grant.And he can be this.

She won’t push him away.She won’t.

She can’t say ‘I love you,’ a second time.But she thinks it loud enough that she hopes he hears.

 

 


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye learns more about Grant, his family, and herself. She’s not really sure how she feels, but she’s got Grant and that’s good enough.

“Okay,” Grant says, patting the dashboard.“Five hours to Boston.”

Skye smoothes her shirt, winces at the rising sun.“It’s so early.”

“Never to early to commit fratricide,” Grant says.

Skye stares at him.He smiles.

“Oh my fucking God,” Skye says, bursting into laughter.“You moron.”

“Would a moron use the word ‘fratricide?’” Grant asks, puffing out his chest.

“Well, since you just did, I guess I have to say yes,” Skye retorts.

“Ow,” Grant says.“Hurtful.”

Skye reaches over, pinches at his leg.“Just drive,” she says.“I’ve had no coffee and no Slurpees.”

“So we’ll only have to stop every hour and fifteen minutes, then?” Grant says.

Skye smirks.“Exactly.”

He shakes his head.His dark hair catches bits of sunlight.Skye notes it’s gotten longer.She runs her fingers through it for a moment, tugs at it.

“Let’s go already,” she says.

“Well stop pulling my hair, then,” he says.

She gives one last pull for good measure, moving in to kiss him.He scrapes his teeth against her lower lip.She feels him smiling, knows he is, so sure and satisfied.She grins back, until they’re not even kissing anymore, just pressing their foreheads together, smiling like they’ve just won something big.

Maybe they have.

“Let’s do this,” Skye says.

She could swear that when Grant turns on the engine, the car actually roars.

 

 

\--

 

 

Skye chews on a wad of pink bazooka gum, snapping it occasionally against her teeth.

Grant winces.“Can you not do that?” he asks.

She smirks, and does it again.

“That is so unbelievably obnoxious,” he says.He smiles anyway.“Were you chewing gum when we met?” he asks.

“It used to be my thing,” she says.She blows a bright pink bubble, lets it pop.“Made me look younger.Plus-” She snaps it again.“It’s super distracting.”

Grant responds by turning up the radio.Elvis fills the car for the second time in one road trip.Grant stares at the dial like it’s personally betrayed him.“Are you kidding me?” he asks the radio.“Are you really going to do this to me?”

“Looooove me teeender,” Skye sings, using her pack of gum as a makeshift microphone.She shifts in her seat, leans towards Grant.  

The smell of bubblegum is overwhelming.“Skye-”

“Looove me sweet,” she interrupts.She’s dropped her voice a noctaves, but it’s still nowhere in the right range.“Neeeeeever leeet me goooo.”

“Skye I swear to God-”

Her mouth is way too close to his ear.“You have made my life complete,” she whispers.

Grant shudders, which is when she snaps her gum again.He groans, and gently pushes her face away.“You almost had me,” he says.

She spits out her gum, into a napkin from wherever they’d picked up coffee.She inches towards him again, her hands covering his.The song continues, her voice softly whispering the words in his ear.She thinks he’s starting to like the smell of gum.

When she slides one of her hands onto his lap, he sighs without meaning to.“I’m driving,” he says, though it’s not much of a protest.

“Mm, I know,” Skye says, her lips ghosting across his cheek.

“I need to focus,” he says.Like that’s going to stop him from getting an erection right now.She knows him.She knows when he needs to be distracted.

She strokes her finger along the outline of his cock.“Want to pull over?”

“We need to get to Boston,” he says, like it pains him.It probably does.

She pats his thigh.“Okay,” she says.She kisses his cheek.“Loooove meee teendeeer.” Another kiss.“Love me deaaaar.”

“I thought you hated romantic crap?” he asks.

She laughs softly, nibbles his ear.“I make an exception for Elvis.”And for him.Sometimes.When he needs it.When he is full of doubt and thinks she doesnt notice?

“I like it,” he says.“It’s sweet.You gonna be this romantic at Graceland?”

She presses her nose against his cheek.She’s almost in his lap.He’s driving.He’s driving but she knows he needs her.“Maybe.”

“Then let’s knock this out,” Grant says.“So we can get to it.You know how much I love you being all over me.”

“And seeing you so determined,” Skye says.“It makes me kind of hot.”

“This is kind of?” Grant asks.

“Shut up,” she replies, fondly.  

The song’s changed, but she stays on him, stroking her hand along his stomach, his legs.

“I don’t want to crash,” Grant says.

“Fine,” Skye says.She falls back into her seat.She looks at him, studies him.“Are you scared?”

“Of?”

“Killing your brother.”

He chews on his lower lip for a moment.“A little. Yeah.”

“Well,” she says.“I’ll be there. I’ll protect you.”

It’s as intimate as the feeling of her lips on his face.His smile is an entirely private one, and Skye almost feels like she shouldn’t be allowed to see it.“I don’t need-”

“You have it.”

He reaches over, puts his hand on her knee.“Okay.”

She wants to wrap herself into his arms, but he’s driving.“We do this together,” Skye say.“We stick together.”

He nods.“You really won’t leave?”

“Never.”

He squeezes her knee.His eyes stay on the road, like that will keep Skye from noticing his doubt.

She still sees it.But she means what she said.

 

 

\--

 

 

The Ward Estate isn’t directly in Boston.It’s a small ways north, by way of winding roads and thickets of trees.They settle about half a mile away, and park the car in a ditch.

Skye pats the hood.“I’ll miss you,” Skye says.“You did good.”

Grant snickers as he gets their bag.“I guess you were right,” Grant says.“It was a pretty good car, after all.”He slams the trunk closed, slings the bag onto the car.“Take your pick.”

Skye takes a moment to survey their supplies.She crosses her arms, pulls her lips into a line.“We only brought close-rangers,” Skye says, taking her ballistics vest out of the bag.“Think I’ll need this?”

Grant nods.“In case Christian arms his security.”

“They wouldn’t be able to hit me,” Skye says.“They’re just basic security.”

Grant frowns at her, for a moment.“Wear it anyway,” he says.“Please.”

Skye makes a point of sighing dramatically as she takes off her jacket.She slides the vest on over her shirt.“Happy?”

He nods, grabbings his vest.“Yes.”

“No,” Skye notes.“You’re not.”She finds her lucky silencer, which really isn’t that lucky, and sets it aside.

Grant shrugs.“I will be when Christian’s dead,” he says.He passes her a Glock, and she glares at it.He turns his head.“What?”

“That’s a girl gun,” Skye says.

“There’s no such thing,” Grant says.“Guns are gender neutral.”

“This is designed for women, though,” Skye says, tapping the handle.“Look.It’s made for smaller hands.”

“Which you have,” Grant notes.He’s grinning at her.Like the ass he is.

Skye takes the gun from him, straps it to the side of her vest.“I want the Nano, too.”

“But I like the Nano,” Grant says.

“Take the Sig,” Skye says.She digs it out of the back.“Come on.It’s your favorite.”

Not even the sight of her dangling his favorite gun seems to cheer Grant up.

“Grant,” she says.“What if I take out your brother?”

He tilts his head.“Without me?”

“Yeah,” Skye says, gently placing his gun under his hand.“Then you won’t have to worry about seeing him.I’ll go in and-”

“No,” Grant says, with an authority that would make a lesser person tremble.“You’re not seeing him alone.”

There’s something he’s not telling her.“Grant-”

“He’ll convince you to kill me,” he says.“He’ll convince you to leave.”

She’s not offended.Just shocked.She runs her hand along his forearm.“I’m not that easily bought, Grant.”

“He’s a liar by trade, Skye,” Grant says.He might cry.“You’re so beautiful and wonderful and he’ll turn you against me if I’m not there.”

“Nothing can turn me against you,” Skye says.

Grant blinks a few times, to clear his eyes.“You don’t know him.”

“I know you,” Skye says.“And I know this is stressing you out.”

He breaks her gaze.Wraps his hand around his gun.“I need to do this,” he says.“With you. Please.”

She mutely nods before resting her head on his bicep.“Okay,” she says.“I was just trying to help.”

“I know,” he says.“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Skye says.“We’re ending this.You don’t have to worry about taking the shot, okay?”She tilts up her head.He’s still not looking at her.“I’ll kill him for you.If you need.I promise.”

He nods in response.

The best thing she can think of is standing on the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek.“I’m not leaving you,” she says. _I love you_ lingers just behind her lips, but remains unspoken.

He wraps his arm around her waist, pulls her against his body.He buries his nose in her hair, presses his lips to her forehead.

For a moment, they’re completely still.

“We have to do this,” Grant says.

She knows he’s right.

 

 

\--

 

 

“Found it,” Skye announces, as they near the perimeter of the Estate.She holds up her phone for Grant to see.“The security feed.”

He tries to give her a sign of his approval.“Can you loop it?”

She nods, tapping quickly at her screen.“Done and done.”

“We’re probably over-armed,” Grant says, as they continue up the trail.“I doubt his security has more than tasers on them.”

“Hey,” Skye says, tugging at her vest.“You’re the one that made me put this on.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but he just looks kind of wounded.“Sorry,” he says.

“No,” Skye replies, reaching for him.He’s been fidgeting with his guns, anyway.His hand is better suited in hers, anyway.“I didn’t mean it like that.Grant.”

He easily intertwines his fingers with hers, and shows no signs of letting go.“Okay,” he says.

She gets the feeling he’s not really listening.“Do you want me to sing again?” she asks.

She gets a sort of snicker for that.“I don’t think this is the best time,” he says.

She debates doing it anyway, just to see if it will make him laugh.But she worries that it will just frustrate him, stress him out even more than he is already.So for once, she bites her tongue.

Besides.They’re coming to the clearing.The Estate is up ahead, in all its New England splendor.Perfect paint job, perfect shingles on the windows, wild roses growing along the ancient-looking brick walls.

Skye wrinkles her nose.“It smells gross up here,” she says.

Grant shrugs.“Low tide,” he says.“We’re near the water.”

She thinks she hears seagulls, actually.“We’re hopping the fence?” Skye asks.

Grant shakes his head, tugs her along towards the south side of the manor.“There used to be decayed spot in the wall,” Grant says.“You’d knock it over and then put it back when you were on the other side, so no one would know.”

“You don’t think Christian’s had the wall redone?” Skye asks.Her boots stumble over tangles of tree roots, and Grant rushes to catch her.

“You good?” he asks, looking down at her with the utmost concern.

She could fake it.Say her ankle’s busted, make him take her somewhere safe.Never mention this again.

But she doesn’t think that will do Grant any good.She nods.“I’m fine.”

He gently sets her back on her feet, and they continue.He runs his fingers along the wall, looking for his spot.“Christian never knew about it,” Grant says.“Only me and Thomas.”

“Ah,” Skye says.She’s heard Thomas’ name uttered maybe three times.Four, if she counts this time.And once, it was in Grant’s sleep.There’s a lot she’s never asked about.Maybe she should start.“Is your mom still- Does she live-”

Grant actually smiles.“She’s dead,” Grant says.“Not my doing directly, though.Drank herself to death after father’s assassination.”

Skye just nods.“Recently?”

“Not really,” Grant replies.A brick shifts under his fingers, and his smile falls as quickly as it arrived.“Found it.”

 

 

\--

 

 

Grant doesn’t speak again until they’re well into the house.And she gets it.Sort of.He wants to avoid detection, he wants to survey the area, he wants to finalize his plan.That’s all good.Whatever.

But the Grant she knows is never this quiet.He at least whistles, or makes a quip about her lead feet, or something.But there’s nothing.Just silence and antique carpets.

“Here,” Grant finally says.He taps his hand against a doorway.Nothing special on the surface, but the tension in his shoulders says otherwise.

“This is the study?” Skye asks.

Grant shakes his head.“This was my room.”

Skye ignores the chill she gets.It’s nothing.It’s nothing.He opens the door.

“I guess it’s one of the kids’, now,” Grant says.

Skye leans in, takes a look.“Really?” she says.“It’s pretty tidy for what, a twelve-year-old boy’s room?”

“Thirteen,” Grant says, and steps over the threshold.“And you’re right.”

“I mean, did you keep your room this neat?” Skye says.“Maybe it’s just like, the maids or something.You have maids, right?”

“No, that’s not it,” Grant says.He pauses.“Check the closet.”

She raises her eyebrows, but does as she’s told.“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Grant asks, turning towards her.“Oh,” he says, and something breaks through in his tone.Something relieved.“His kids aren’t here, Skye,” he says.His hand is on her shoulder.“They’re at boarding school.” 

“So that means-”

“There’s no chance they’ll find his body,” Grant says.“No chance they’ll hear the gunshot and come running.Oh, God,” he says, bringing his free hand to rub at his face.“Skye, they’re at boarding school.”He grins at her.Not the sadistic, satisfied, ‘my mom is dead’ kind of smile she got earlier.

It’s happier.So she’s happy.“Was that what you were worried about?” she asks.“His kids?”

“I can’t do that to kids, Skye,” he says.“I couldn’t- They would’ve found him, and who knows what he’s done to them but-”

She wraps her arms around him.It’s a little difficult, given that he’s got three guns on him, but she hugs him anyway.“You big softie,” she says.  

“No, no,” he says, stroking her hair.“It’s more than that.I don’t want to be- Him.”

She’d snuggle her face into his chest, but there’s a ballistics vest there.“Show me where you started the fire.”

He kisses the top of her head.“C’mon,” he says.She lets out an internal sigh of relief.“It’s where Christian’s room used to be.”

He takes her hand again.She follows.

 

 

\--

 

 

They settle into the study as the sun is setting.And they wait.

“Want to eat me out on the desk?” Skye asks, spreading her legs.“Settle your nerves?”

He approaches her, gently kneels before her.He rests his head on her inner thigh, stares up at her with adoration and love and determination.“I can’t defend us from here” he says.She rubs her fingers against his scalp.“But later,” he says.He nuzzles her through her jeans.“I promise.”

It stays like that for what seems like a long while.Grant nuzzles her thigh, kisses the fabric and waits while she runs her fingers through his hair.It gets dark quickly, and they’re left sitting with no lights on.

“You sure he’ll be here?” Skye says.“That he comes in here every night?”

“Mm-hm.” Grant says.“Just like father used to.”

“It’s almost seven,” Skye says, briefly staring at her phone screen.“Six fifty-nine, actually.”

Grant pauses.Rises slowly to his feet.She listens to the sound of him loading his gun.She takes that as her cue to do the same.“Seven o clock,” she whispers.

The lights come on.

And gentle Grant is gone, replaced by the cocky man she fell for and his shiny gun.He’s hiding behind it, just a little.The persona.Not the gun.He’s never needed to hide behind a gun.“Hey big brother,” Grant says, as Christian stands dumbstruck in the doorway.“Long time, no see.”

 

 

Christian looks a lot like his brother, actually.But Skye won’t mention that.

“Grant,” he says.“I thought you’d call.”

“Close the door, Christian,” Grant says.“We need to talk.”

“With a gun on me?” Christian says.

“Two, actually,” Skye says, poking out from behind Grant.He’d put himself directly in front of her, obscured her from Christian’s line of sight.He’d definitely done it on purpose, but Skye had already told him: she wasn’t letting him do this alone.

“You’ve got a girlfriend,” Christian notes.

“Wife,” Grant corrects.There’s that fondness in his tone, the one he always uses when he says the word.

“Hi,” Skye says.

“Grant,” Christian says, ignoring her completely.Which is super rude, by the way.“Put your gun down.”

“Why?” Grant asks.“So you can hit me?”

Christian actually has the gall to look offended.“Because if that thing goes off,” he says.“My children will hear.”

Grant pulls the hammer back like it’s second nature.“Your children are at boarding school, Christian.”

Christian doesn’t flinch.“Are they?”

“Sit down behind the desk, Christian,” Grant says.“Pour yourself a drink and sit down.”

“Oh, I get a last drink?” Christian asks.“How dignified of you.”

Grant’s finger twitches on the trigger.Skye recognizes his bluff.She knows it like clockwork.But Christian doesn’t.He can only raise his hands in surrender.“Fine, fine,” he says.“Would you like a drink, Grant?How about your wife?”

Skye doesn’t like his tone.Neither does Grant, apparently.His snarl takes the color out of Christian’s face.“Get your drink.”

 

 

“You’ve really planned this, haven’t you?” Christian asks, pouring scotch into his lowball glass.“Come all this way from whatever hellhole you’ve been living in.”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Grant asks.“I’ve been having the time of my life.”

“Is that so?” Christian asks.“With your little wife?She’s awfully quiet.”

He gets the gun right in his forehead, for that.“Don’t speak to her,” Grant says.

“I’m harmless,” Christian snaps.“I’m not the one with a gun.”

Skye resists the urge to fidget.She’s uncomfortable as hell, though.This is why she has no legal family.Well, they’re all dead.Or missing.Or whatever.But she’s glad they’re not whatever the hell this is, at least!

“Do I get a speech, Grant?” Christian asks, leaning against the bar.“Why I deserve this?”

Grant gives that smile of his, the one that’s more of a snarl and a threat.“You know why you deserve this.”

“Debatable,” Christian says, before taking a drink.He doesn’t wince at the sting of liquor.Skye wonders if Mother Ward drank herself to death on the same stuff.“I know you killed father, Grant,” Christian adds, like it’s an afterthought.“He wasn’t important enough for a real assassination.”

“Did you try to come after me?” Grant asks.“Were you upset that you couldn’t?”

“Oh right,” Christian says.“Because it takes real skill to get a fake passport and flee the country.Honestly, Grant.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Grant says.“You think I can’t tell you’re bitter I beat you to it?”

“I’m not a murderer,” Christian says.“I’m not a psychopath like you, Grant.”

“Okay, I call bullshit on that one,” Skye says.“You’re staring down two people with a gun, and you’re not crying or begging or doing anything a normal person would do.”

“Oh, and you’re a psychiatrist?” Christian asks, giving her a once over.“Do you read people?Do you think it takes more than basic intelligence to-”

Grant grits his teeth.“I said-”

“Don’t talk to her, I know,” Christian says.“But she started it.”

“You almost killed Thomas,” Grant says, interrupting Skye’s moment.

“Almost,” Christian says.“You killed father.And mother, by proxy.”

“And I couldn’t be happier,” Grant says.“It was the best decision I ever made.”

“So this is what?” Christian asks.“Second best?”

Grant moves his gun back, just enough so that he can pull Christian towards the desk.“We’ll see.”

 

 

Grant practically throws Christian into the leather chair that sits behind the desk. 

Christian shifts in the chair.“You want me to sit where father sat, all these years.” Christian says.

“Yes,” Grant says.

“And ignored us,” Christian continues.

“Or made it worse,” Grant adds.

“You’re unwell,” Christian says.“You’ve got some very acute psychosis.”

“I’m fine,” Grant says.“I have always been fine.”

Christian almost smirks.It’s a dare if Skye’s ever seen one, but Grant doesn’t take it.“You’re the one that got sent away, Grant,” Christian says.

“You buried me,” Grant says.“I did nothing wrong.I did everything right, and I got sent off to military school.And then you tried to kill him again, didn’t you, Christian?”

Christian looks up at his brother.“You tried to burn the house down,” Christian says.“Not me.”

“I was trying to kill you!” Grant screams, loud enough that even Skye shakes.Just for a moment.Not enough that Grant will notice.But Christian’s noticed.And he’s scared.Skye likes watching him squirm.“I wanted you dead, Christian.I’ve wanted you dead.”

“Grant,” Christian says, his voice almost cracking.“I’m sorry.”

Well.Okay, then.

“What?” Grant says.He doesn’t lower his gun.

Christian rubs his eyes.“It was wrong.Sending you away when you were so clearly unwell.”There’s nothing but the utmost empathy in his expression, and Skye really wants to smack it off.“You’re sick, Grant,” Christian says.“And I ignored it all this time because I was selfish and stupid but-” he rises from the chair, hands level.“I can help you.”

Grant shakes his head, that not-smile back in place.“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” Grant says.“What you’re trying to put in my head?”

“Grant,” Christian says, his voice shaking with just the right amount of sympathy. “You’ve let so many people take advantage of you.Twist you.”

Grant says nothing.Skye would speak for him, but she has no idea what to say other than ‘bullshit.’And she’s not even sure Grant would hear her.

“Your wife, Grant,” Christian says.“What did she promise you?Did she say she’d run away with you, if you killed me?”

Grant’s hand has begun to shake.He’d been right.Christian would try to divide and conquer.But it’s not Skye that he’s after.

She trusts Grant.She trusts Grant more than she fears Christian.And that’s the difference.

“She’s after the money, Grant,” Christian says.“Someone she can use.You’re sick, and she’s just been using you.”

Grant rears his gun back before cracking it across Christian’s face.Skye can guess, from the force, that Grant might have collapsed Christian’s cheek.“I told you not to talk to her,” Grant says.“You stupid fuck.You stupid, horrible fuck.”

Christian clutches at the side of his face.“Grant,” he says.“Listen to yourself.Listen to what she’s done to you.”

“She saved me,” Grant says. 

“I think John would take offense to that,” Skye notes.

Grant almost laughs.Almost.“He taught me how to shoot,” Grant says.“How to stop being so sad and alone all the time.”

“But she taught you how to fucking love?” Christian asks, with no small trace of malice.

“Fuck you,” Grant says, simple as that.“She’s the most important person in the whole world, Christian.And you’re just a corpse.”

“Ah,” Christian says.“So we’re there.”

“You want some last words?” Grant asks.He’s feeling bolder.Prouder.Skye can feel it.And she’s more than a little turned on.

Christian meets Grant’s gaze.“I am sorry,” Christian says.“But I could’ve helped you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Skye says.“Seriously.”

Grant’s smile betrays only his affections for her.“Close your eyes, Christian.”

He does.

His brains paint the wall behind him.The books on the shelf.The family portrait.  

And Grant stands perfectly still as Christian crumples before him.

 

 

Skye is the first one to remember how to breathe.“Grant,” she says.She clicks the safety on, puts her gun away.Her hands find his arm.“Grant,” she repeats.

Nothing.She wonders if he was like this, after he killed his father.She somehow doubts it.“Grant, come back to me.”

“He’s dead,” Grant says, softly.

“We have to go,” Skye says.“The whole house will have heard the gunshot, Grant.Come on.”

He stares at the body, still warm, but very dead.“I’m not sorry,” Grant announces.“I’m not sorry at all and I don’t have to forgive you.”

Skye pulls on him.“I know, baby, he knows, but we have to go.”

Grant nods.Puts his gun away.“I know a way out,” he says. 

She follows him out, through darkened hallways on silent feet.He’s holding her hand.She’s thankful for that.She doesn’t know the house.But she knows Grant.And he’s keeping her safe.

Maybe this is what this whole thing is.Or maybe it’s just revenge.It’s done.That’s what it is.It’s done.Her Grant is free.

She doesn’t recognize the door they leave through, but then it’s out through the hole in the wall again and back into the woods.They can run now that they don’t have to keep silent.And they do.She’s not sure how long they run for, or where they’re going, or if Grant will ever let go of her hand.

“Grant,” she says.“Grant!”

He stops, and she smacks into his side.Then he’s on her, touching her face, smoothing her hair.“Sorry,” he says, finally sounding like himself again.“Sorry.Sorry.Are you okay?”

She nods, takes his hands into hers and just breathes.“I’m okay,” she says.She meets his eyes.“Are you?”

He doesn’t smile.He doesn’t hide.“Maybe?”

“It’s a clean break, Grant,” Skye says.“He’s dead.It’ll heal.”

“It’ll heal,” Grant repeats.

“You have me,” she says.“I’ll help you.And I actually mean it.”

He pulls her so fiercely that she crashes into him, and when he kisses her she pretends it isn’t tinged with sadness.

But she knows.She knows him, and she knows how he kisses.

This had been her idea.She blames herself.“You’re free,” she whispers, breaking the kiss before it breaks her instead.She clutches his cheeks, kisses his face.“You’re free.”

“No,” he murmurs.“I have you.I have my Skye.”

“You’re still free,” she says.

He shakes his head.“Please don’t let me go,” he says.“Please.”His eyes are wet. 

 

 

She can’t do this.She can’t do this.She has to do this.

“I won’t,” she says.

He kisses her again, gentler, this time.“We need to keep going,” Grant says.“Out of Massachusetts.Out of the country, for a while.”

Skye frowns.“But Graceland is in this country.”

He laughs.And he means it.It’s odd.“How about Euro Disney?”

“We murdered your brother,” she says.“And we’re going to Disney.”

“Well,” Grant says.“Since Graceland is out of the question.”

Her frown turns to a pout.

“For now,” Grant amends.“Until this blows over.”

“I won’t leave you,” Skye blurts.Grant stares at her.“You don’t have to cover up how you’re feeling and joke around with me again.I won’t leave you.”

He tucks her hair behind her ear.“Why not?” he asks.

She swallows.“Because I love you,” she says.It feels like a lump in her throat.Like rocks in her pockets.But he’s holding her, and it’s okay.It’s all okay.

“I love you, too,” he replies.

He’s both, she tells herself.He’s both cocky and shy, fearless and entirely too afraid of everything.She wonders if she split him, like this, or if this is how he’s always been.

What is she?Is she both?Neither?

He takes her hand.

She’s on her honeymoon.She can work out the details later.


End file.
